


How Stiles is saved by Derek

by orphan_account



Series: Black & Orange - Wolf & Fox [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Werefox Stiles, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Derek could smell the werefox miles before he reached it. The dark wolf stood still as he listened closely. There it ran, its little heart hammering hard in fear. No surprise, he thought, considering the fact he was hunted</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Or: How Stiles is saved by Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Stiles is saved by Derek

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: PG - 13  
> Summary: 'Derek could smell the werefox miles before he reached it. The dark wolf stood still as he listened closely. There it ran, its little heart hammering hard in fear. No surprise, he thought, considering the fact he was hunted.' Or: How Stiles is saved by Derek.  
> Warnings: none  
> Word Count: 2,088  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Derek could smell the werefox miles before he reached it. The dark wolf stood still as he listened closely. There it ran, its little heart hammering hard in fear. No surprise, he thought, considering the fact he was hunted. Not by his hunters of course. Werefoxes were known among werewolf hunters, but they didn’t really care for them. Most foxes were shy and jumpy, would try whatever they could to stay out of trouble if possible.

This one, however, was seriously in trouble now. Its heart rate kept going up, and Derek had just fallen into a mild trot to go after it when it happened. He winced instinctively as he sensed the sudden pain, radiating off the werecreature the moment something dug deeply into its body. Derek’s steps sped up, paws gently drumming against the soft ground.

He reached the injured fox a beat before the hunter appeared. Growling deeply in his throat, Derek hovered above the smaller animal in protection, showing off the impressive, white teeth that could tear the hunter apart if he wanted to. He stood at full height, muscles tense in preparation for a potential attack.

The displayed amount of aggression was enough. The man before him might have been tall and well-trained, but certainly was just what Derek had expected: an ordinary hunter, looking for an easy kill in the woods, probably for fun. He hadn’t been prepared for a wolf of this size to confront him. Derek growled again for good measure when the guy retreated, now being the one with an in fear racing heart.

Derek waited until he was sure the hunter wouldn’t return before he took a step backwards and eyed the injured fox. The smaller one didn’t seem to believe it was safe, though, as it tried to make itself look as small as possible. One of its legs looked unnaturally crooked, was probably broken. The shaft of an arrow stuck out like a sore thumb, blood dripping out from where it had pierced fur and skin. The fox whined in fear when Derek stepped closer, heart rate picking up once more.

Silly fox, he thought although he couldn’t blame it. Werefoxes were shy for a reason. They were fast and incredibly smart, had special talents of their own, but there wasn’t much they could do once they found themselves facing a fully grown werewolf. Especially not in such a helpless constitution.

Derek huffed a sigh and stepped closer anyway. As gently as possible, he pushed his muzzle against the fox’s jaw before giving the crooked leg a lick. The racing heart started to settle down once the fox realised it wasn’t in danger anymore, but its hectic breathing didn’t stop.

Derek sighed again. Silly, frightened fox. There was no way he could leave it behind like that, even if he removed the arrow. The fox was paralysed in fear and once another, less friendly werecreature or hunter came across it, the little one would have no chance to make it out alive.

He couldn’t carry it in wolf form either, though.

Derek paused in hesitation for another moment before he made his choice. The fox remained completely still, only shivering in pain as it watched how he shifted back into human form. It didn’t whine when he picked it up, carefully avoiding to hurt it any further. He could feel its rush of relief when it finally understood. It buried its face in his bare chest, eyes closing. Pain still ripped through its small body, but the relief was gaining more power by the minute.

He made a brief stop at the Hale house to redress before he headed for the loft he had recently rented. It didn’t feel like home yet, but so far that counted for entire Beacon Hills. Two weeks ago, he had returned to the small town where he had grown up, had lived until…

Until…

Until his world had turned upside down and he had lost everything that had ever mattered. His home. His pack. His everything. Who cared for an empty, cold loft then when nothing in this town was really welcoming to begin with? Why he had come back in the first place? Derek kept asking himself the same question. 

Who knew? And who cared?

The fox was half asleep by the time Derek carefully placed it on his bed, gathering the blanket around the small animal to make sure it was warm and comfortable. The crooked leg was healing already, but the arrow was still a problem. The fox’s eyes blinked open, gazing up at him in a mix of fear and hope when his hands closed around the thin shaft.

“That’s gonna hurt,” he announced quietly, not bothering to whisper more soothing words. Of which purpose would they be anyway? He couldn’t push the arrow all the way through so he had to pull it out. Carefully, inch by inch, Derek tried to remove the arrowhead of the bleeding wound, pausing whenever the fox winced in pain. It was impressively quiet now, breathing heavily but not a whimper escaped it. Brave little guy, Derek thought, grimacing when the arrow got stuck again. He knew what an amount of pain such an injury caused, having gone through it a disturbing number of times himself.

He got the arrow out with one final pull after what felt like an eternity. The fox sighed in relief, albeit it was still shivering. Blood flowed freely now, but not in the life-threatening way he had expected. The injury would heal: werefoxes shared the gift of self-healing with wolves.

“You’re going to be alright,” Derek said assuringly, voice low and quiet. He ran a hand across the thick, orange fur, feeling how the fox tensed in confusion at first. He watched it closely as strong, black veins spread across his arm while he took some of the pain from the exhausted creature. Its breathing returned to a normal pace, and so did its heartbeat. Derek’s hand remained in its place, soothing pain until the fox’s eyes fluttered shut. He wrapped it into another blanket before he left the creature alone, allowing it the space and quiet it would need to recover.

*~*~*~*~*

The first thing he knew when he rose from deep, dreamless slumber was that he hurt. Boy, and how much he hurt. Stiles groaned softly, refusing to open his eyes for another moment as he tried to sort his thoughts. What the hell had happened now? How…

And then, it all came back. The hunter. The arrow. The pain. Oh, this agonising pain.

And the werewolf. The one who had shifted back into a perfectly fine guy after scaring the hunter away, and then had taken him home to save his life. Again.

Stiles Stilinski, shot down by a random hunter. Typical. His Dad certainly wouldn’t be pleased if he found out.

Not that he could blame him, really.

A year had passed since a feral werefox had bitten him, and Sheriff Stilinski still struggled with what his son had turned into. Not because he couldn’t accept that his son was a werefox, no. It was the fact that clumsy, weird Stiles had found yet another way to get himself in trouble. And danger. The throbbing remains of his injury proved that perfectly.

Groaning again, he rolled over as good as he could in the heap of blankets that had kept him warm for however long he had slept. His eyes roamed across the large room that looked so cold and uninviting that he could barely believe anyone lived here.

Except…

His eyes widened when he spotted his rescuer, seated more or less comfortably on the living room couch, asleep. Derek Hale, he thought. The only surviving Hale. Who had returned to Beacon Hills after years and years of being...who knew where. The guy didn’t really look like he had ‘come back home’, considering he lived in such an empty place and couldn’t go back to what had once been a beautiful house.

Poor guy.

Even though he was still struggling with the fading pain in his side, Stiles could almost taste the waves of loneliness that were radiating off the sleeping werewolf. Curious as he was, Stiles had wanted to meet the guy, to come up with a more or less lame excuse and talk to him. Everyone in town knew about the Hales. Everyone knew what had happened all those years ago. And yes, Stiles wanted to find out even more.

Just...maybe not this way.

He shifted again, wincing slightly. He froze in place when he realised that since he had shifted back to his human form, he was at a serious loss of clothes. Like Derek Hale had been earlier. 

Fantastic. Seriously.

Keeping the blanket wrapped around himself as good as possible, he slid to the edge of the bed, set his feet upon cold floor. He paused, shivering at the chill sensation before he got up.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Stiles froze in place at the sound of the other one’s voice, cutting through the total silence that had been lingering in the loft. Feeling his fox instincts kicking in, Stiles took a deep breath to fight down the urge to crawl into a dark corner or simply run away. Wolf and fox in one room...usually not a good idea. Unless the wolf in question was best friend Scott. Others though…

Then again, he doubted this one had saved him just to kill him later. Wolves weren’t like cats after all, which liked to play with their food before they showed merci.

“Um.” His eyes darted to the man on the couch, now no longer asleep but studying him with a frown. Stiles almost dropped the blanket, just in time remembering that he wasn’t really in the mood to show off his nudity. “Uh...I just…” With his free hand, he rubbed the back of his head. “Uh...guess I wanna call my Dad. He’s probably worried sick ‘cause I’ve been away for a while. Doesn’t really trust his werefox son not to get himself in trouble.” He laughed awkwardly, feeling like he was shrinking under the intense gaze of the man on the couch. Hell, those eyes… “Oh,...thanks for saving my life by the way. I was lucky you were around to scare that dude off.”

Derek Hale nodded slowly. “Of course I was, since you were running across private property. Hale land, to be exact.”

Stiles felt his cheeks heating up. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that, man. See, I didn’t really pay attention when I was running from that big ass hunter with his big ass arrows, y’know.” He pulled the blanket up a little further, feeling uncomfortably exposed despite the layers of fabric. The fact that the werewolf could sense all those awkward emotions didn’t help much either.

Derek Hale stared back in silence for seemingly the longest minute he had ever experienced before he nodded again. “Go ahead then.”

Stiles looked puzzled. “With...what?”

“Calling your Dad?”

“Oh...right.” Stiles gave a crooked grin. “‘bout that...um, I kinda forgot my phone at home. With my clothes....”

Derek sighed, sour waves of annoyance radiating off him. “Take mine. Over there. Let him know you’re on your way once you’re not hurting anymore.”

“Thanks, man.” Stiles nodded gratefully. He made a step towards the coffee table before he froze again. “Um...about the clothes again...think I could maybe...just borrow because…” Another sigh answered him. Even more annoyed this time. “Okay, no worries, I’m just gonna...go like this. Or shift again. Hope the hunter’s gone for good.”

He didn’t even wince at Derek’s glare. “Make your call, I’ll get you something. To borrow.”

“You’re the best.” Stiles’s grin widened even more as he received another glare. He couldn’t help himself. Stupid suicidal fox. “I’m Stiles by the way. Stiles Stilinski. Son of the Sheriff. You surely heard of him? Bet he’ll be grateful that you saved his son and healed and clothed him.”

This time, Derek didn’t even bother to glare. Stiles watched the man heading up the spiral stairs that led upwards before he reached for the phone. His curiosity was still sparked, probably more than earlier. Injury in his side and the fear he had suffered earlier were forgotten when he decided that the werewolf certainly wouldn’t mind if he made a second call and phoned Scott first. Those news had to be shared, after all.


End file.
